


Wing to Wing

by EvaLilith



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:45:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvaLilith/pseuds/EvaLilith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has nightmares about the almost-apocalypse. So does Aziraphale.</p>
<p>I do not own Good Omens or any of the characters therein.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wing to Wing

_The air was hot and full of sulfur. The ground shook, and Crowley knew that while he and the Angel had indeed stopped Armageddon, they wouldn’t be getting away with it._

_He hefted the crowbar, knees shaking, his feathers brushing against the angel’s. The ground began to break open, and despite himself, he screamed…_

“Crowley?” Aziraphale’s blue eyes were full of concern as he peered at the demon. “…Are you all right, dear?”

Crowley gasped for breath, slowly taking in the world around him. He was slumped in a chair in Aziraphale’s shop. There were alcohol bottles strewn across the table. “…Wha…?”  
“We both fell asleep out here last night, apparently. I don’t remember much. I only just woke up myself and was going to make some tea, but then you started twitching and making noises. And you’ve ruined your suit.”

Crowley blinked at him. “My suit?”

Aziraphale looked above Crowley’s head. Crowley started to follow his gaze and winced. He paused a moment to properly metabolize the remnants of the alcohol, then completed the motion.

His wings were out.

“Oh.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed. “What is it, dear?”

Crowley shook his head. “Nothing.”

Aziraphale frowned, looking at Crowley over his glasses. “You know I know when you’re lying.”

Crowley sighed. “…I just woke up, Angel.”

“You don’t need sleep in the first place. But I have some of that instant coffee about somewhere from the last time you were here, if you insist.”

Crowley nodded, eager to delay the discussion. “Force of mental habit. Can’t function without my coffee.” He looked at Aziraphale. “Don’t make that face at me, you’re the same with your tea.”

He leaned back in the chair and listened to the noises of the angel making their respective warm beverages. He stretched his wings, too lazy to put them away just yet.

After a few minutes, Aziraphale came out with the mugs. He frowned at the table and the bottles disappeared. He set the coffee in front of Crowley and sat down with his tea across the table.

Crowley avoided Aziraphale’s eyes as he took a large swig of the brew. He also avoided making a face at the quality of the stuff. He’d have to buy his own package to keep over here.

“Crowley.”

“Yes, Angel?”

Aziraphale frowned at him. “Crowley.”

Crowley sighed. “…it was just a dream, Angel.”

“A dream about what?”

“Oh, you know, that time we averted the Apocalypse.”

“…Oh.”

Crowley finally looked at Aziraphale. “What? Don’t you ever think about it?”

Aziraphale bit his lip. “I do. Was it… specifically, was it… that bit after we’d already averted it?”

Crowley frowned. “…If I said something in my sleep, it was hardly necessary to interrogate me, was it?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “No, you didn’t, I- It’s just, that’s the part I dream about, too.”

Crowley hesitated. “…But… you’re an angel. You’re _supposed_ to fight him. And you’re the one who said we should stay.”

“I’m supposed to fight evil in general. Maybe demons. But to fight Him, with no other angelic help? After what we’d just pulled, my side would have been happy enough to see me destroyed, I imagine.”

Crowley rubbed an ear. “I just… never pictured you being scared. Even when I dream about it. You’re there, but…”

Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s wings. “…Yes. That is the one good bit of it.”

Crowley stiffened slightly. _He remembers that too. Back to back, our wings touching. I was never sure if that was just how the dream told me he was there, or if…_ “…Are you saying you like rubbing wings with a demon?” He gave a half-smirk.

Aziraphale colored. “I meant that at least… at least I’m not alone.”

Crowley drained the rest of his coffee and stood. Stretching, he swiped one wing over Aziraphale’s head, ruffling the Angel’s hair and grinning at the disgruntled sound he produced.

“That’s right, Angel. Neither of us were alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> A response to this prompt from thewriter8 on Tumblr: Aziraphale/Crowley: ‘Chances are slim we are right, but i’d never think it any otherwise. So we’ll find the answers in time and the bodies pile up sky high…’


End file.
